


In the Mood

by Maygra



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ATF:  PWP, First -time bondage<br/><b>Pairing/Characters:</b> Chris/Vin<br/>For cee, who is entirely incorrigible but has delicious ideas and, as always, thanks to the letter J, who always and time and energy and many bits of polish and sparkle to offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Mood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traveler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traveler/gifts), [Cee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee/gifts).



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

"Have you lost your fucking mind, Larabee? You're not tying me to any bed no matter what Buck Wilmington says!" 

Which was the end of it as far as Vin was concerned, but getting out of the house to make his point seemed like a good idea. 

"Vin..." 

"No! You like the idea so much, how's about me tying you to the bed?" he snapped off, wondering if Chris had gotten into the evidence lock up somehow and been dusted with unknown substances. It was the only thing that made sense. If there was sense to be made at all since, while Buck was definitely a charmer, he wasn't the great Karnack to be mesmerizing Larabee into taking leave of his senses. 

"Okay." 

"Okay, what?" 

"You can tie me to the bed." 

Vin whirled around, eyes narrowed, trying to see some hint of the pod person that had overtaken his lover's body -- if not his mind -- and snorted. "Yeah, right." Maybe tying Chris up wasn't such a bad idea, at least until whatever it was that had overtaken him wore off. He might be a danger to himself, if not to others and Vin was, after all, an officer of the law. 

And the law said crazy people should be put away where they could be no threat to decent folk. 

"I'm serious," Chris said and he sounded sincere, looked sincere too, from what Vin could see: that lean body propped, spread-armed, in the frame of the sliding door to the deck. "What's the worst that could happen? We try it, we feel a little silly... we have a laugh and forget it. Or..." 

"Or what?" Vin asked, still suspecting a trap. Crazy people could be uncommonly sneaky. 

"Or we might like it," Chris said, and his voice had dropped low, half embarrassed, but that husky tone was all too familiar. Most often Vin heard it in the dark, right before Chris rocked his world as well as his ass and left him panting and sweaty. 

Vin stalked back toward him, staying out of arm's reach. "This is a bet, right? Something you and Buck cooked up -- or you'n Ezra. What's the pay off?" 

"There's not one -- not for them! That's not how it is--" 

"Uh huh…you thought this little kink up all by yourself?" 

Chris flushed red, or at least Vin thought he did. Back lighting didn't give him the best view, but he ducked his head, keeping his eyes on Chris ' face as the man looked away. "Spit it out, Larabee. What's the joke?" 

A strangled sound escaped Chris and Vin looked back, Chris unable to hide the amusement on his face, a half-swallowed chuckle escaping him. "God, Vin. It was just a thought. We'll drop it--" 

"What's so damn funny?" 

"You're looking at me like I have a rattlesnake in my pocket!" Chris said and the laughter escaped him then. 

"More like bats in your belfry," Vin snapped back, then pushed past him going back into the house, leaving Chris wheezing with laughter against the doorframe. "Asshole," he sneered, headed for the kitchen. He needed a beer, or food, both. Maybe something stronger. Tequila and Josiah's five alarm chili, something to ward off the uncomfortable shivers running down his spine and the tension making his belly clench up. 

And there was the box on the kitchen table, next to Chris' briefcase. Looking like a handgun case; it was the culprit that had started this whole thing. He stared at it, reached out for the latch warily as if it were a viper. 

And heard Chris behind him. He snatched his hand back and went to the refrigerator for a beer. Ignored Chris, who was once more leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. Dress shirt untucked and still in his good slacks. "It's not booby-trapped." 

"Fuck you," Vin said and set the bottle down to rummage in the freezer for the chili.  He heard the cap pop off. "Hey!" Whirling to grab at the beer just as Chris took a sip. 

Chris batted his hand away. "Get your own!" 

"That was mine!" 

Chris only smirked. Vin stepped back and went for a second beer, rolling his eyes at whatever mood Chris was in; which was decidedly weird; could kindly be described as being playful if Vin were of a mind to be kind. 

He heard the plastic latch click, the metallic jangle and resolutely refused to look. There was chili in the freezer somewhere but he was hampered by his need to protect his beer by holding the bottle while hunting. They really needed to clean this freezer out. Chris tended to make too much and Vin couldn't stand to see food thrown out, but there was a limit to the capacity of any freezer to hold leftovers. Especially unmarked leftovers, but he knew what the container looked like with the chili. One of them party colors for Tupperware -- fiesta red or something -- which was as close to a warning label as Josiah would put on his paint-eating recipe. 

"Think this is real sheepskin?" 

Resolution lost under patented Larabee misdirection and obfuscation. 

Vin looked. 

The wide leather cuff was wrapped around Chris' fine-boned wrist, the black leather with an oily glisten to it contrasting to pale skin and the barest hint of paler padding inside. Sheepskin. Lambswool. Synthetic cotton-poly blends that slid easily over flesh and then stopped as Chris bunched his fist and the muscles of his forearm swelled to fill the restraint. The clasp and chain were less soft looking, and the more functional standard cuff dangled, clapping against the table as Chris pulled out the second one, examining the padding. 

"You're like a dog with a bone," Vin accused, shutting the freezer and taking the two strides to snatch the second cuff out of Chris' hand. His thumb stroked over the padding and he lifted the cuff up to sniff at the fabric. Leather and oil and that tang that spoke of lanolin. "Yeah," he said, surprised in spite of himself. "It's real sheepskin…wool. Happy?" Expensive, Vin would think, if he could stop and think about it, but Chris' hands were on the cuff now, opening the leather band, rubbing the softness across the back of Vin's wrist, expression caught halfway between smug and outright lust. "We're not doing this -- I'm not. You can do it alone," Vin said but didn't pull his hand away as the cuff closed around him, because Chris was looking at him from under those dark lashes, grinning like an idiot. 

Sudden moves could provoke the patently insane into unexpected action. Vin felt his breathing shallow out, body tense, prepared for assault. 

The cuff was soft, smooth, felt more like a well-fitting pair of winter gloves, trapping warmth. 

"No fun alone," Chris said casually, clearly admiring the fit of black leather against Vin's tanned skin. A little strap and buckle, cinched tight and he caught the loose end, his own restraint dangling, light catching it and Vin found himself hypnotized by the play of light on the metal. Chris' grip tightened, he pulled and Vin pulled back, the padding sliding easily on his skin. "Maybe we don't need the bed," Chris said softly, that husky tone back and Vin swallowed. 

Unexpected action, his ass. Standard police take-down and he'd missed it when Chris pressed in, invading his space, dragging his arm down and back. He found himself facing the wall, spluttering as he almost lost his grip on his beer, arm behind him, Chris' fist wrapped around the chain. 

"Spread 'em." In his ear, hot and moist as Chris' tongue did a search and seizure on his ear that wasn't in any rule book Vin had read. 

Resisting arrest was never a good idea. Gave cops -- or ATF agents -- license. He was pressed hard to the wall, Chris continuing his search over his jeans pockets, across his hip, under his t-shirt to search his flesh for something -- weapons, hidden contraband -- then slipped his fingers under the frayed denim at the waist band. Vin's other hand clutched at the wall, beer still intact and the chill of the bottle was a relief against the heat building elsewhere. He felt the coolness of metal against his belly, the dangling cuff catching on the fabric as Chris worked the rivet on his jeans. 

Busted. His cock swelled and Chris chuckled in triumph, as the odd combination of leather and steel against Vin's skin sent a tremor through him when his zipper was pressed down and the well worn elastic of his briefs proved no barrier to this particular search warrant. 

"Chris…" 

"Shhh...m'busy," Chris warned him, pressing one leg between Vin's parted thighs, and Vin let his forehead thump against the paneling as he felt pressure on his balls from above and below, caught between Chris' thigh and his hand. Chris' nose nuzzled under his hair, lips and tongue and, finally, teeth working the thin skin at the back of his neck. Vin felt the bottle slip and flattened his hand to the wall, trapping the glass there, hips rocking to the rhythm Chris was playing on his dick, tickling his balls. 

The roving hand was pressed flat to his groin, knee and thigh and hip and the grip on his wrist pulling him back and around. He grunted and gasped, the bottle slipping, falling, hitting the floor and bouncing then spinning, spilling beer on the floor, sending a yeasty aroma through the kitchen to mingle with the scent of sweat and lust; it could be tasted on Chris' tongue as his mouth fastened on Vin's, once more pressing him to the wall. 

Both hands were caught high, cuffs forgotten as Chris laced their hands together. His linen slacks were no cushion at all for the hard erection that ground into Vin's pelvis, rubbing against his own throbbing dick. His tongue left Vin's mouth for his throat then down lower, blond head bent as he mouthed a nipple through the cotton tee, leaving the fabric and Vin's skin wet as the bud peaked and he bit lightly. Fire raced through Vin's veins. Left him flushed and panting, then settled in his belly again, barely banked and ready to surge again. 

He pulled against Chris' hands, wanting to touch, to press Chris' mouth harder to his chest, or force him lower, only to have his arms snapped back into place and Chris' face inches from his own, breath trailing across Vin's lips and chin as his mouth left a trail of coolness across Vin's jaw. The green eyes were dilated, almost all pupil, skin flushed and lips wet. 

"You can touch or I can touch…that's the point," Chris murmured, soft and nasty, into his ear, pressing full body, shifting his grip to encircle both Vin's wrists. Restraining him without real force, but definite warning. "Call or fold, cowboy." 

Then his tongue delved into Vin's ear and ignited a shiver of desire, his heart pounding, body throbbing in time to Chris' Larabee's heartbeat. 

And really, what was the difference? His fingers flexed, closed and flexed again, feeling the pull, still fighting the desire to touch as well, but, man…what Chris could do with his mouth alone was sinful. What he could do with his hands free would drive Vin one step closer to heaven. 

"Fold," he said, barely a whisper, into Chris' hair, into his ear, thrusting his hips forward as if words wouldn't be enough. 

Chris growled softly, kissed him hard, dragged his hands down and forward, pulled him out of the kitchen, then backed him up toward the bedroom. 

Hands busily working at the buttons on Chris' shirt, Vin didn't know if he'd won the hand or lost it. 

Bare skin met his hands, then the bed met the back of his legs and he lost that contact as he sat suddenly.  Chris bent down to pull at his boots and Vin doing his very best to help. He pulled himself back on the bed as Chris grabbed at the open vee of his jeans, hands sliding into the fabric to pull them down, disentangling the briefs from Vin's hard-on. Vin groaned out loud as the dangling end of the handcuff Chris still wore raked his erection, making it, and him, quiver in reaction. He squirmed backward, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled. 

He overbalanced and fell back on the bed when Chris lifted a foot to pull his socks off. The shirt got tangled and he lay back, panting, shivering as Chris crept onto the bed with him, shirt open, slacks half undone, eyes fixed on the long stretch of Vin's body, seeming to take in every line, every corded muscle. His mouth hesitated over Vin's dick, breath warm, soft, hovering there, lips parted and Vin held very still, afraid to break Chris' concentration. 

Indecision wasn't normally a part of Chris Larabee's make-up and after moments of anticipation, Vin decided this was just plain cruelty and reached -- only to find his hands caught and forced back, Chris all but sprawled across him, his weight pressing Vin's dick back into his belly. 

"Do what you're shit gonna do, Larabee, or get the hell off me," Vin hissed, trying desperately not to move, wanting equally as desperately to move, and then found a different kind of stillness inside himself when Chris directed a wolfish grin at him. He heard the ratchet and snickt of metal, the clank against wood, and Chris' fingers trailed across the inner part of his forearm before he sat up. 

Vin pulled, got three inches of give and then was brought up hard. He let his gaze follow his lover's, moistening his lips as he saw the metal cuff securely hugging the slats of the headboard. Another tug provided the same results. He was going nowhere. 

His t-shirt was still tangled around his arms and he pulled his left arm free, then stopped watching as Chris pulled the padded leather from his own wrist and held it up. 

Vin didn't offer his arm but Chris leaned across him, caught his hand and wrapped the padding around him. There was a brief check, eyes meeting eyes but Vin didn't stop him, didn't drop his gaze, only drew in a slow deep breath. 

And let his arm be stretched out toward the headboard. 

He couldn't help but test the cuffs again, shifting his hips as Chris settled back on his thighs and pulled off his shirt. "Just tell me you have the keys." 

Chris slid off the bed, shucking his slacks and boxers, eyes never leaving Vin's naked form. "I have the keys," he promised and knelt on the mattress once more, running a warm palm up Vin's leg to his hip. "Not on me…" he warned, glancing down at his own nudity. 

"I can see that--" Vin's words were cut off, his lover's mouth silencing him, hands running over his torso, leaving rough friction and heat in their wake. Automatically, Vin tried to hold on and was thwarted, anticipatory panic running along his nerves until he realized his legs were free. He scissored his legs, found purchase, heard Chris start laughing again and his anxiety drained off. 

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Chris asked him, stretching out beside him, half on him, pushing Vin's thigh away from its lock on his hip. Light kisses fell along Vin's jaw, Chris cupping his neck as he kissed him once more -- far more gently, still hungry, but savoring rather than feasting. His other hand began a lacy pattern across Vin's chest, random paths trailed across his collarbone, his pectorals, along his sternum until a thumb brushed over a nipple, returned, and kneaded it lightly, leaving it peaked but unsatisfied as Chris once more mouthed the other one. 

Vin found himself straining once more, half rolling, arms caught and limiting his movement, one heel to the bed to give himself leverage. Chris' hair tickled his chest, teased his senses. 

Vin was shocked to find out how much it was all ratcheted up by his inability to reciprocate. He intensely wanted to touch Chris, guide him, hold him, demand of him; something he did with his hands and body and only rarely with words. He could see though, feel: the rub of his knee against Chris' hip, the damp press of Chris' hard dick into the hollow of his pelvis. The sweat-sweet scent of is hair. The still present lingering taste of beer in the deep recesses of his mouth. 

It was making him crazy. He'd had no idea Chris' madness was contagious, and there was only one cure he knew of. 

He rolled, feeling the strain in his arms, Chris giving a startled grunt as he was once more locked between Vin's legs. The cuffs held but didn't cut, the wood creaking as Vin hitched his hips up, nudging Chris' dick against his own. 

And was pressed back, swiftly, with little ability to resist, Chris above him, hands pressed to the bed on either side of Vin's head, breathing harshly, then smiling again as he lowered himself and rocked. 

"Yessss…" Vin gasped out, head back, trying for more contact, more pressure, the ache and fire building again. "Son of a bitch!" he cried out in loss and frustration as Chris pulled away, pushing up. His cursing was met only with another throaty chuckle as Chris twisted, reached across the bed to open the drawer of the bedside table, fumbled for and found the bottle of slick. He discarded condoms, but pulled out a small leather ring, twirling it around his finger. 

"Oh, no," Vin warned, eyes narrowing. 

"Oh, yeah…" Chris shot back, opening the strip and pushing Vin's thighs wide. 

Vin almost lost it right there, Chris' hand on his swollen dick, squeezing him hard, and his thumb digging hard into Vin's perineum. Where the hell Chris had learned that little trick, Vin wasn't sure he wanted to know, but the results were bone-wracking and mind blanking. He bucked, swore loudly in a couple of languages until Chris' mouth displaced his hand and then nearly dislocated a shoulder when he felt the thin leather wrap snugly around his cock and balls. "Fuck it all, Larabee, they kill people for torture in this state!" God help him, he didn't think he could get any harder and felt the shock jolt his system, a shudder overtaking his whole body as his dick tried to adjust, the pressure and urgency rising, the ring tight enough to be felt even if the cuffs were hardly registering any longer except he couldn't move his arms. 

"You can press charges as soon as I'm done," Chris offered, lifting his head long enough to meet Vin's eyes. His fingers lingered on the ring, ready to release the snap. Waiting. His own cock rose up against his belly, swollen and red, already wet-looking with pre-come, Chris holding back with no help at all. His hand rubbed across Vin's stomach and Vin swallowed. 

"Tell me we're fucking soon," Vin ground out, breath hissing through his teeth. 

Chris reached for the slick and popped the cap with one hand. "Oh, yeah. Absolutely we're fucking…" 

"Do it then…God, just do it," Vin said closing his eyes and trying for that elusive stillness, fingers wrapping tightly around the short length of chain. He didn't open his eyes, not even when Chris settled between his legs, or when his hands got a firm hold on his thighs, lifting him, opening him, knees wedged under him almost to his ass and the scrunched up support of a bed pillow was pushed under his hips. Cool slick fingers at his hole made his legs clench, wrenching a huff of breath from Chris. 

"Easy, Vin…easy partner," Chris soothed, slicking him and pressing in. No one, two, three, here -- that was two fingers pushing through the muscles of his ass, slick and searching,  the fullness shockingly sudden and Vin let out the breath he'd been holding, eyes flashing open in reaction as his body was breached. "That's it…let me in," Chris was almost crooning now, his other hand rubbing along Vin's hip and thigh. Body heat warmed his groin and the sharp pain in his lip that he'd been chewing on was soothed by soft lips. 

"Jesus, Vin…you have no idea …" Chris could have been purring, a low rumble in his chest that was both warning and approval, eyes raking along Vin's tightly stretched body with desire entirely unchecked. 

Vin sucked air under that gaze, or tried to, only found Chris' tongue in his mouth at the same instant his cock penetrated Vin's body. His groan was hollow sounding as he tried to hitch his hips upward, too aware of the throb in his dick to be distracted by the sudden sense of fullness and pressure in his ass. 

Chris' hands framed his head, stilling the restless tossing Vin had been doing without knowing it. Chris' gaze was intent, strained, focused only on Vin, watching him, bent almost double and buried deep. His gaze shifted upward, tracing the line of Vin's outstretched arms then back, and Vin couldn't look away, only took a deeper breath when Chris moved slightly, pulling back, thrusting in, rocking slowly.he did it again, Vin lifting his hips to meet the thrust, breath hissing out when Chris pulled back. Then again and the low groan that escaped Vin was entirely unintended. 

Bracing his hands once more on the bed and pressing up and in, the muscles in Chris' neck stretched tight. He lifted Vin slightly to wedge his knees deeper under the pillow and Vin locked his ankles, hearing metal grate on wood as he tried for some leverage, then found he didn't need it as Chris began thrusting again, slow and steady, deliberately drawing it out. 

Someone was beating a drum close by, the rhythm increasing, growing louder, in time with Chris' breathing, with Vin's, until they were in synch. He felt the spasm deep in his balls, opened his mouth to cry out and heard only a strangled moan. Chris wasn't touching him except where their bodies were locked together, where Vin's calves rubbed over Chris' waist and hips. His fingers had gone numb, his mind blank to everything but the rhythm and the sight of Chris swallowing convulsively as he picked up the beat, increased the tempo, the slow, deliberate fucking giving way to something with less control and more demand. 

Vin was jarred and rocked, body thrumming. He was stretched tight and hard as steel, every minor movement or touch sending a vibration through him like wind across a high wire, arms locked tight by the cuffs, legs just as locked by the need to hold onto something. Everything telescoped, narrowed down to the rough friction of Chris' cock raking his ass and the unwavering gaze fixed on his face, taking in every moan, every hitched breath, every shudder.  Chris was doing almost all the work; all Vin had to do was feel. 

It wasn't helplessness, but it wasn't control either, and he wasn't sure he'd meant to give that up, but it was gone as another quaking shudder overtook him, leaving his mouth dry and his body sheened with sweat. 

There was fumbling then, at his groin, and a sharp ache as the ring was released. Chris reached over him, stretched as tight as Vin was, gripping the headboard to pound into him, finally breaking that commanding gaze as his head went back until all Vin could see was the taut, flushed expanse of his throat and under his chin. 

The blood beat increased, his vision blurred and blanked, feeling the deep clutch and release in his groin only seconds before Chris' come filled his ass and every bit of strength left his muscles. 

Chris was still stretched over him, only his grip on the headboard kept him from dropping his weight on Vin. His head dropped, though, to rest his forehead against Vin's, before rolling his neck to press a brushing kiss on Vin's temple before seeking his mouth. One hand, then the other released, rubbing along the outside of Vin's thigh, easing his legs down and apart as he backed up. He left another kiss on the crest of Vin's still corded left thigh, before dropping beside him rolling to his side to rub and touch, trying to soothe tremors with the passage of his hand.  His own or Vin's, Vin didn't know or care and he let his eyes close, trying for something like normal breathing. 

He felt Chris shift, brush his lips and rub his shoulder before reaching over his head to unbuckle the straps, easing Vin's arms from the restraints. Vin hissed softly as the stretched-tight muscles relaxed, letting Chris rub the circulation back. His wrists were red but not really chafed, fingers stiff and he looked back, seeing marks on the wood where the metal had scraped. 

Chris saw it too, studying  the marks then shifting his gaze to Vin's face. His eyes crinkled at the corners, lip twitching. "Remind me to pad the slats." 

Hands working more or less normally, Vin reached up, surprised at how intensely he needed to touch, recognizing that he'd missed being able to dig his fingers into the thick blond hair as he pulled Chris' mouth down to his own. He let his mouth linger, tasting, exploring fingers kneading at Chris' scalp, then along his neck to trace his shoulders. Chris grinned at him, stretched out, and closed his eyes. 

Vin wasn’t inclined to move. In a few minutes, maybe an hour, he'd care if his wrists were sore, or if his muscles would tighten up. His own come was drying on his belly, his ass still throbbing and his only nod to comfort was to stretch his legs, and roll to pull the pillow free.  Chris reached for him, pulled him in, bodies tangled, the air cooling skin and drying sweat. 

Vin's hands wandered over Chris' back to his ass, stroking lightly, wondering if it were the cuffs or just Chris, sleepy thoughts chasing vague speculation, chasing the still random explosion of sensation in his body as adrenaline and endorphins were cleared by every beat of his heart and pulsing flow of blood. 

Chris pulled away with a kiss, rolling to his stomach, face buried against the crook of his elbow. Vin looked his fill, appreciating the long line of his body, the swell of ass, the rounded curve of muscle at his shoulder, thoughts dancing lightly over what it would be like to see Chris stretched out and restrained. To touch without being touched. 

He reached up to finger the cuffs, feeling the damp wool, testing the strength. 

And let it go. 

He curled up, linking his fingers through Chris' outstretched hand. Smiled and closed his eyes to sleep. 

Payback would be… 

…something entirely different. 

_end_ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

5/26/2003  
   
 


End file.
